In the last year of my life, there have been so many questions. So many prayers. So many heartcries…
And now, it’s becoming clear that even where I could not see them, there have been So. Many. Answers.
Sometimes, God answers prayer in a far greater way than I ever imagined when I made the request.
A deeper way… a way that feels like He hasn’t heard… like He’s forgotten me, while in reality…
He is working all things together for the greater good.
Because every piece of the story, though they appear so random to me, is connected in the big picture that only God can see. He is weaving each individual thread into one masterpiece.
Lately, that has been made so clear as I examine the the why of suffering.
What if… there’s a purpose for all of it?
What if… this is part of the journey to a beautiful place?
Instead of asking, “Why?” in a tone of anguished defeat, I’m beginning to see all the possibilities in this and ask, “What if?”
And that question is loaded with great potentials, which still create more questions than answers…
But I’m content to rest in the idea that for now, that may be my answer.
To keep asking about the possible good outcomes this could create. To keep seeking them.
Through the challenges I’ve been faced with, I’ve wrestled with questions I never would have thought of asking before.
And the answers to those questions are only found in searching to know more of Who God is.
Now, in the heat of the battle, wrestling, searching, longing, seeking… I am becoming grateful for the gift of this journey.
Because my place in this broken world has been shaken, I’ve gotten homesick for my home… Heaven.
A desire for perfection was written into our hearts when we were born in Eden, but we all know this world is far removed from its original state. That’s why disappointments hurt… our instincts tell us it wasn’t meant to be this way.
But in the everyday moments, when life flows along smoothly, we forget who we are, why we’re here, and where we’re going. We can become quite focused on our earthly lives, and really would be fine with staying quite awhile.
That perspective changes quickly, though, when life holds disappointment.
When we are faced with pain, we remember the reality that we don’t belong here. We belong with Jesus, in Heaven.
And since we can’t go there yet, we seek to walk more closely with Him here… because He has made Himself available to share our lives if we will invite Him in.
Walking intimately with Jesus is like a prelude to Heaven, a security in an uncertain world.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.
And I wouldn’t have this experience if pain hadn’t made me long for Heaven… and therefore seek Jesus more than before…
I used to wonder why I was created with a deep compassion for those who are suffering, if my life has been so blessed.
I’ve felt the deep desire to walk alongside those who are struggling under the extreme challenges their lives hold… yet I’ve also wrestled with knowing that I haven’t experienced much pain in life. Because of that, anyone who has would be fully accurate if they would accuse me of not having the ability to understand.
For many years, I believed by faith that God is good, but my life circumstances had not seriously challenged that belief.
And now that I’ve personally had to wrestle with that question, I still believe that God is good. More than ever.
But when I say that… it’s so much deeper. Filled with new meaning. Because I have had to search out His goodness in the hard and holy places… and this, I’ve learned, is the sacredness of suffering.
To seek God and discover His goodness in the most unlikely places, and open a whole new journey into the depths of experiencing His greatness.
Now, with the new perspectives I’m given the opportunity to learn, maybe I will become more.
I knew I was lacking, and I wanted to be used for God’s service, but I couldn’t have chosen a way to effectively equip myself.
I wanted a closer experience of knowing Jesus… a greater thirst to understand God’s ways… a deeper journey into His heart.
And although I never would have chosen the methods I see God using to work in my life, I am slowly understanding how suffering can be a gift… because nothing else could cultivate these things in me the way suffering does.
What if Your blessings come through raindrops? What if Your healing comes through tears? What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?
Blessings, by Laura Story
What if these tears are to teach me the empathy I knew I was missing before?
What if instead of an ending, this is the beginning of an awesome journey I never could have imagined taking?
What if through loss, life could become filled with so muchmore?
*photography and design by Jackie, author of this blog. Lyrics on photos are excerpts from “Blessings” by Laura Story.
Surrounded by the playful shouts of running children, standing in the sunshine on the school playground, I inhaled slowly.
Exhaled.
Willed myself to forget my exhaustion and inner pain, and focus on the idyllic scene all around me.
Pain doesn’t disappear at command, apparently.
But joy can be sought and found, which I have discovered to be an effective method in getting through difficult times.
So once again, I determined to shift the focus from coping with these emotions, to seeking a reason to smile.
(Sometimes, we do have to walk through the messiness in our hearts. But there are times and places, like at school when you’re the teacher, that you need to be able to effectively distract yourself so that you can function well in your role.)
I turned slowly and took in everything… the area filled with running children, the delighted shrieks and giggles coming from the swings, the little boys so intensely committed to their baseball game…
Amid all the action, I noticed a child standing not far behind me.
All by herself, a post of the playground nearly hid her from my sight.
I stepped toward her, and the wispy, blonde ponytailed head peeked out.
Blue eyes held my gaze with a reproachful stare.
“How’s your day in kindergarten been so far?” I began.
“Good!” She replied instantly.
Hmmm. Okay, but she’s not playing with the others and doesn’t look too happy about something… I decided to try another tactic.
“Would you like to play with the others?”
Very sweetly, but with 5 year old confidence, she answered in the negative.
“Are you enjoying your recess, just relaxing here?”
“No.”
O-Kay! This time, her negative answer held an accusing tone.
“I’m sorry to hear that – can you tell me why?”
Again, Miss Tiny’s confident voice sounded accusing. A little arm stretched up and pointed at the swinging rings on the playset as she declared, “I want to go across.”
“I’ve been waiting,” she added. “And no one came to help me.”
I patiently apologized, assured her I would be glad to help, now that I knew she wanted to go across.
In my mind, I thought, “And this is why I’m not a kindergarten teacher. Like – how long would she have waited if I hadn’t seen her there? Here I’m feeling terrible for not noticing sooner, yet she could have told me!”
As she beamed down at me while I guided her from one ring to the next, I was still exasperated and amused inside. May God bless all kindergarten teachers with wisdom to read the minds of their students… and understand without being told when they “want to go across.”
Suddenly, it was like God turned the lights on and revealed the purpose for this little exchange. Just like that, I saw myself.
Timidly standing at the bottom of the steep mountain range, stubbornly refusing to ask anyone for help.
Just waiting.
Wondering where God is, and when He’s going to show up to help me navigate this.
Sure, He knows what I need and can read my thoughts before I tell Him. But even when I can predict what a student needs by the desparate jabbing of their hand in the air, I still appreciate when they use their communication skills to tell me. Does God not desire me to do the same?
His Father-Heart wants connection with me, and that is formed when I speak to Him in prayer.
He desires my expression of trust in coming to Him and saying, “I can’t do this alone… I need Your help.”
He loves when I acknowledge Him for Who He is, and admit that I’m at the end of myself.
I set the little girl safely on the platform after helping her across, and as she runs off to play, I smile at the retreating ponytail that bounces with her steps.
A little child shall lead them…
I returned to the place I stood before, no longer hugging myself so tightly as if trying to hold my fragile heart together.
It’s time to stop staring at the mountain and wondering how to get over it.
I’m done pacing in circles at the foot of it, asking why God hasn’t taken it away.
That simple exchange at recess was designed by a Divine Hand to show me what I need to do…
I stretched out my hands and whispered,
“God, I want to go across.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell You sooner, and that I just kept asking You why You haven’t come to go up the mountain with me. You’ve been here waiting to start the climb, just patiently waiting until I humble myself to acknowledge my need.
So here I am now, God. I know I’m too weak to climb this by myself. Will You help me?
